Still Life
by A. Tynon
Summary: After every conflict, those who survived must shift through the rubble. They have to find what is worthy and make their future out of it. Set in post-ME3 timeframe.
1. Chapter 1 - Sharp Inhale

**Still Life**

 **1\. Sharp inhale**

Smoke billowed from between his lips, stretched into thin wisps by the faint cool currents exhaled by the atmospheric controls. Billions of pinpricks of light in the void overhead are blurred into swirling nebulas by the moisture in his eyes. His hands shivered like on that cold day in Bothnia station, the last rehearsal of what to say before the door chimed the point of no return. He smirked dryly at the memory of how his stomach lurched at the look of surprise in her eyes when it opened. Ah, youth.

The smoke from his vaporizer was likely cleaner than the air around the station. Atmospheric controls desperately tried to scrub it of dust form eezo, particles of vaporized alloys and toxic gases of everything that still burned.

He rubbed at the tickling irritation in his reddened, sleep deprived eyes once again. The glitter of stars, ship wreckage and debris from the destroyed sections of the Citadel became a little less blurred. The strange new alignment of the wards felt uncomfortable: too open, the space outside too dark, the light of the sun coming to view on every rotation too harsh. Centripetal gravity felt off, localized efforts to compensate with mass effects fields too sporadic, costly and suffering from power outages. He flinched as a tiny blossom of erupting fire flickered in a pocket of contained atmosphere somewhere far away. The way the wards were now aligned and with large sections separated and floating in the void made it difficult to tell - it's probably Tayzeri. He blinked the wetness from his eyes and wiped the traces of tears from his cheeks.

A large transport glided by, blocking his view, part of a constant stream of evacuations, relief efforts and salvage operations. He ejected an empty vial from the vaporizer. For a certain type of patient, it's contents could mean a handful of extra hours. In some cases, that's the difference between life and death. For him, it meant focus for enough time to probably save at least a dozen others.

\- "Okay, just this once, then it's up to you", he said to the galaxy above. He drew in air and held his breath. He thought it was the right choice, but still he felt like crap.

He exhaled and flicked the vial away. It spiraled down toward the tilted horizon, and just before becoming too tiny to see, it hit a curved protrusion that was part of a turian cruiser's engines just a few hours ago. He turned around and cursed, startled by the locking mechanism that spat a few sparks at his touch. He flared his nostrils at the putrid air that wafted from the doorway and headed for the familiar sounds of sobbing and yelling people.

* * *

A sharp inhale.

Lights and shadows flashing. Blurry shapes hurrying around. A stench of chlorine stinging. Something metallic, burning, rotting. A thin veil of numbness being intermittently pierced by jabbing and searing pain. Can't hear properly.

\- "Cut here, we got to get that damn thing off first."

A pneumatic whine protesting. A loud pop, and a brief burst of small shards and crumbs rattling down. Something sputtering.

\- "Pull there. Careful now…"

A slow tearing, crunching sound and feeling of pressure being eased.

\- "Oh dear G-"

Fast shallow exhale-inhale, coughing. Spatter of blood - fresh and coagulated. Can't feel my... Reaching out, grasping for hold. A raspy voice, halting to gurgle, wheezing for breath. Retching a mouthful of dark red blood, which flows down and smears chin, cheeks and neck. Congealing into a sticky mess among the bruised skin, cinged hair and tatters of cloth.

Another gasp for air.

Teeth staining in dark red, eyes wide but not seeing, desperately seeking for something, anything. Swallowing, spitting, fine droplets spraying.

\- "She's awake. Too soon, add ten more cc's. Watch the-"

Instruments clattering on floor. Tearing fabric. Spitting, hawking. Can't breathe. Panic. Arm starting to flail, pushing away.

\- "Ten cc's. That was the last."

\- "God damn it, hold her down!"

\- "How is she still…"

\- "Shut it! Inserting the endotracheal..."

Blunt and invasive, forced to gag. More arms grasping a hold, pushing down. Fingers slipping on something wet and sticky. Sputters clouding eyes, everything dyed in red.

\- "Where's Rianus? What do we have left - diamorphine, fucking entonox - anything?"

Gagging reflex, air wheezing through nose. Managing only a hacking gurgle of red froth.

\- "Can't wait, we'll lose her, I'm going ahead."

A bright all-searing light pulsing into view. Burning through every nerve, filling senses and remaining thread of conscious thought. Pure, bright and full of terror. Let me go. Remember her eyes. _Sometimes we share memories._ Focus on that. Try to remember. Blue eyes.  
 _Sometimes we share-_ It's too much, I can't...  
 _Sometimes we-_ Focus

* * *

\- "Still can't believe they didn't bring her here sooner. A clamp."

\- "With all due respect, sir, the situation was very chaotic. Lucky to be found at all."

\- "But they did find her! What could've possibly taken so fucking long? If I lose her too, I'm walking there personally and fucking smiting those bastards. Forceps. Rotate one-twenty-seven. Switch off manual."

\- "Sir, with the manpower and resource issues, everyone's minds were on saving those we could, prioritization, survivability. Still are. No-one's thinking about favoring rank."

\- "It's her, for fuck's sake! Not some admiral's neighbor or a rich actress with a broken nail! Gods! Watch the levels, adjust thresholds here."

\- "But sir, the shape she was in. Can't blame them for not noticing right away."

\- "How about the big fucking 'N7' stamped right on the fucking dog tags!? Can't be that many of those around. They can read, can't they? The auto-retractor."

\- "Sir, you saw what was left of the armor. What's left of her, poor thing. Without all this stuff inside her, I doubt we would be having this conversation."

\- "Without all this stuff inside her burned out, we wouldn't need to. It's not like we have containers full of spare L5's and whatnot lying about all over. Adjusting magnicification. Probes A-three through A-twelve, B-one and C-nine through, um.. C-twentyone."

\- "Still, you have to admit this is all quite fascinating. Have you ever seen anything like this, sir?"

\- "A fucking mess, that's what this is. Everything woven through by this shit. Bones, muscles, skin. There's hardly a part that hasn't been augmented. Not many would feel comfortable doing this to themselves."

\- "From what I heard, I don't think they asked her opinion on being brought back."

\- "Ah, crap, retract A-seven and A-eight to five-twelve!" An exasperated exhale. "Just look at this! It's not possible to reconnect these conduits manually, you'd need to grow it in place or use nanites or something. … Yeah, she probably packed a wallop, but once these things get into too bad shape… I don't know. It'll takes ages to scoop this out, manufacture the replacement stuff and put it back in. It'd be easier to just clone every limb." A deep sigh. "Okay, that'll have to do. Everyone clear. Start the VI."

\- "Do you think it will take long to replace everything, sir? Can we, ah… Are we really up to this?"

\- "Damned if I know. This wasn't over the counter stuff even before the invasion started. Now we're down to rationing bloody CrunchyCritter™ bars. Maybe years, unless the relays are fixed soon. If there is anything left behind the relays anymore. Shit."

\- "Hmm… Have you looked at this, sir? The seam layout and meshing on this right here… This is brilliant! We're lucky we could pull a nearly full medical from the Alliance databases. All that data from that Lawson character. Some of these augmentations, though... the salarian, Solus… This is mind blowing."

\- "Okay, quit drooling, you can write your thesis later. Ahem, VI's done, she's prepped. Bring in doctor Veiss' team. Time for them to work their magic. Everyone else, out!"


	2. Chapter 2 - Vigil

**2\. Vigil**

\- "I am sorry, but the guards are right. She is still far from being able to receive guests. No-one but medical personnel are allowed inside at this stage of recovery."

\- "And who the fuck are you supposed to be?" Jack asked.

\- "My name is Vela Iatrosa. I have been appointed by the Systems Alliance to oversee her physical and mental wellbeing. Pleased to m-"

\- "Wait, back up a bit. A shrink?" Jack cut her off mid-sentence. "She doesn't need a damn shrink. Queen of the girl scouts is the damn bedrock, stable to a fucking fault," Jack continued angry at the suggestion, oblivious to the inadvertent pun which the doctor also courteously ignored. Jack started pacing the floor in agitation.

\- "This is a normal procedure for someone who has experienced as traumatic events as she has. I would be more than happy to see the need for my counseling services go unnecessary," the doctor stated calmly.

Wrex squinted his eyes at the doctor, but said nothing.

\- "How long until she's back on her feet?" Grunt asked.

\- "That remains to be seen. We predict the physical trauma will be adequately healed within a few weeks for us to make better estimations of full recovery."

\- "Weeks? She's always bounced back within days from anything," Jack snapped again.

\- "The physical trauma was extensive. The experimental nature of many of her synthetic augmentations have also been a challenge."

\- "Make it happen," Wrex stated evenly, "If you need anything, just ask. You have the resources of every krogan in the Sol system at your disposal. If you need more, I will personally crack any head that needs convincing. Time to cash in all the good will."

\- "Thank you, but I doubt that will be necessary. What she needs now most is time and her friends. I would like to have a word with each of you to get a personal view from those that knew her personally. It would be very helpful in...," she glanced briefly at Jack," ...determining how little my services are required."

\- "Fine. Just don't get any ideas about getting inside my head," Jack muttered.

\- "I would not dream of it," the doctor said, smiling. Wrex snorted a laugh.

\- "She's not an honorary krogan for nothing. Don't worry," Wrex said to Jack as they were walking away.

\- "I'm not worried," Jack snapped at him, crossing her arms and creasing her brows.

Wrex grunted and nodded, "If you say so."

Grunt remained silent.

* * *

The hallways were narrow for the krogan's wide bulk. There was a throng of people: medical personnel, patients trying out their new prosthetics, visitors with bouquets of flowers and laughing kids running in people's feet. They all parted as he determinedly waded through. He didn't let the still healing wounds in his legs slow down his stride. At least gravity was back to normal. His silvery armor had been cleaned and repaired, but still showed the many dents, scratches and holes recently accrued. He carried them all with pride.

The open and noisy lobby narrowed into a hallway lined with medical equipment and doors to rooms filled with beds. The sounds became a little quieter, families gathered around those still bedridden, talking, sharing their gifts, planning things to do after the patient's release. Nurses and doctors made their rounds, chatting lightly. For many, the present was bare, but the future wide open and full of promise.

At the end of the hallway, the blue shimmer of a security checkpoint was visible under the sign 'intensive care'. Beyond the double scan and a stoic turian guard was quietness. There were few people about, and those the krogan saw were not smiling or talking much. An old man was holding a woman's shaking shoulders. As a door slid close, behind an environmentally sealed window, the krogan glimpsed a large room filled with medical staff occluding a patient in a bed they were busily working on. Darkly stained gauze had piled up. Displays were filled with fuzzy scan imagery, plummeting graphs and a warning signal droned barely audibly to his ears. A speaker repeated slightly distorted sounds to the observing room. Implements clattered. Speech was flat, fast and economic. The smell of antiseptic was strong in the whole hallway.

The krogan saw a pair of armored and armed Alliance soldiers near another door at the far end. One of them started approaching him fast as he came closer, while the other one shifted into a ready stance. The krogan narrowed his eyes and rolled his shoulders and headed directly at the door. The first soldier suddenly stopped and let his rifle sling down on the cradle of his other arm as he saluted the krogan.

\- "Sorry sir, didn't recognize you. We have you on the list. Please follow me."

He gestured at the door. The other marine punched the code and the door parted. He gave a salute as the other two march in.

They arrived in a small observation room with a few chairs, a small table, a window and a door to the larger room beyond.

\- "She's inside, but we can't let you in. Doctor's orders. You can take a look, while I call the doctor if you have any questions."

The krogan grumbled, "No need. Just leave."

The marine hesitated for a while, sizing up the krogan with his eyes, and headed back out.

\- "Knock on the door, if you need anything."

The krogan simply growled in acknowledgement.

After the door shut behind him and he was left alone, the krogan gave the security camera a glare and stepped to the window. He looked inside. He saw a large room, brimming with equipment with little blinking lights, manipulator arms and displays. All was white and the lights were dimmed. Bundles of wires and tubes lead to a bandaged figure lying on a bed. Ventilator tubes snaked into the mouth and nose of the human, wires lead to sensor pads on her shaved skull, and many others were hidden by the blanket. Under all that equipment, the krogan could not recognize the woman, but knew it to be her.

He stood there silently for minutes. He muttered, "Battlemaster," then turned and left.

* * *

The golden syrupy liquid squirted out between cracked leathery lips. Bubbles of air trapped in the honey-coloured juice glistened and sparkled in the backlight thrown by the bright growth lamps. The rich nectar flowed down the wide jaw, gathering at the tip and stretching into long sticky droplets before falling onto the scratched, dented and chipped surface of old red armor.

The krogan swallowed, followed by a loud burp and reached for the next handful from a banged container he was squatting next to. A cloud of fruit flies shifted in the air his hand disturbed. He returned to munching loudly.

\- "We'll just tell her to wait a while," Wrex mumbled between bites. "Comms are down. Data's spotty and unorganized. It'll take time for things like that to work out."

Jack wrinkled her nose at the foul odour wafting from the scenery of great mastication. She didn't think herself of the squeamish type, but krogan table manners were not something to raise your appetite.

\- "What? They were about to throw these away! Damned idiots, these have just reached their prime!" the krogan exclaimed with a smack of his lips. "If we're to work together as species, we need to pay attention to things like this."

Jack crossed her arms and turned to look down the corridor. There were few spaces left empty, without purpose. The scenic windows of this pathway from the intensive care unit to the cryo storage were filled with portable hydroponic units. A few containers of spoilt goods ready for recycling had been commandeered by Wrex and put to good use right here, close to where they both had spent long days lately.

\- "Maybe they're just on some station somewhere, making repairs. A few days, weeks at most, and they'll be all mended and ready. She'll understand." He wiped his jaw and licked the juice from his fingers before reaching for another bunch.

\- "You know what the ship's like. How long do you figure it took for them to fix it last time, after you all hobbled back from the Omega relay?" He closed his eyes and rumbled in satisfaction as more mushy pulp burst in his mouth.

\- "Who knows, maybe they're sitting on some sunny cliff side of a garden world somewhere, watching a twin sun set as they do in the vids, eating these… What's this called again?" He pulled one half-eaten fruit from between his teeth, strings of orange hanging over his fingers. "...mango, or whatever that are just hanging from branches above their heads. Sipping ryncol and feeling the grass between their toes. And Joker's whining 'not to scratch the paint job with the power tools!'"

Wrex flipped the half-eaten fruit back into his mouth, chewed with a loud crunch before swallowing, burping loudly and picking up a new one again.

\- "You know you're not supposed to eat the pits," Jack muttered. She grabbed one of the fruits, and threw it down the corridor. It burst and painted a star burst shape as it hit the door. "I'll be at the gym. I need to hit something. Or someone."

Wrex's jaws had paused. He watched Jack disappear behind the rotating and beeping door. He looked at the half-eaten fruit held between his fingers, turned it around and then tossed it over his shoulder with a grumbling sigh.

* * *

\- "Sorry, but you're not on the list, you have no clearance past this point."

\- "But I know the commander. We've met before. She helped me a few times in the past and I just wanted to see she's okay. I need to... to say my thanks."

\- "Ma'am, I hate to repeat myself, but I cannot divulge any information on anyone who may or may not be a patient here. You have to contact the administration to apply for clearance."

Grunt strode through the checkpoint's double scans without turning an eye at the argument between the turian guard and some asari. He headed for the door between the double guards at the end of the hallway. The guards gave a quick salute and the door bleeped and slid open. Grunt stomped in but stopped when he saw the itchy form of Jack leaning to the observation window's frame, one leg hanging over the sill. She was fixated into the room beyond. Her fingers kept rapping nervously on the collar of her leather jacket.

\- "Jack."

\- "Grunt."

\- "How is she?"

\- "The same."

Grunt grumbled and turned to leave. Jack turned to look at Grunt and pushed herself off the windowsill, boots tap-tapping on the squeaky clean floor panels.

\- "I was just leaving," she said.

Grunt turned back to the room.

\- "She'll make it," Jack said as she passed Grunt.

\- "I know," Grunt muttered.

The door slid close behind the woman and bleeped. Grunt walked over to the window.


	3. Chapter 3 - Stirring

**3\. Stirring**

A jolt flashed through me and I remembered to inhale. The stench made me regret the abrupt surge of air within my lungs and I coughed. A wash of sweet metallic stink lathered over the charred and rotting. I wished I had my helmet, something to filter out the repulsive tang that followed me everywhere I went - mixed in the mud, dried in the sand, frozen in the ice and floating in orbit of countless bodies. Now here, slick under my fingers as I slip against the cold metal floor.

For a moment I feared for my eyes, but then I realised it's just very dark. It's hard to focus. I wasn't sure where I was. The corridor went on forever and I stumbled on the piles of discarded matter. I avoided looking at the slack faces of the rag doll people. No point in that.

I slipped again and the same familiar pain made me lose my footing. It took a while to see again and remember what I was doing. Pressing my hand on the wound would do nothing at this point, but it's always better to try at least. Keep going.

As my eyes focused a bit better again, I saw their multi-limbed shapes slowly staggering among the piles. They were shifting through the offal absent-mindedly, repeating through motions trying to fill the lack of a purpose. Automatons trying to fix something beyond their capability, not sentient enough to give up.

It was all too silent. There was no staccato noise of conflict, no klaxon of damage control, not even the constant hum of machinery telling that something worked and time progressed. Was I too late? Had it passed already?

As I slowly stumbled around, a feeling started to grow in my mind. I had no direction. What was I supposed to be doing? This meant nothing anymore. There was no change here. Not even a whisper in a forest. I was not supposed to be here.

A sharp inhale.

All was dark. Something was wrapped around my face, I couldn't open my eyes. There was an itching tingle on my skin and a throbbing sensation deeper. A tube was jutted between my teeth, my mouth strapped closed to keep it in place. Something was snaking down my nostril. I fought the urge to start pulling them out. I couldn't really feel much else, all was fuzzy elsewhere. Not quite sure what 'elsewhere' was. Confusion ebbing in and out. Even with effort, it was hard to grasp into being here.

Trying to focus into a pneumatic puff-wheeze that repeated slowly. A beep repeated somewhere further away. There was a constant hum in the background. Gurgling sounds, a sucking noise. Whine of tiny servos going on and off. Time happened.

High pitched voices, couldn't understand, salarians? Sometlhpf sttaatic... ughh, my head swam in slight nausea, what just happened to my hearing?

\- "... and the implant is online and should be working properly. We should be able to measure basic linguistic cognition at pre-attentive levels soon according to readouts. As per my theory, improved awareness provided by operational inter-species speech translation should provide a more positive reaction to surroundings, despite the regrettable lack of means for reciprocity in communication at the moment. Nonetheless, this should be an advantage for both psychological and physiological recovery, and hopefully make doctor Iatrosa's work easier. Ah, there, observe the changes in activity at Wernicke's area and ventral sites, and even slight changes in HPA-axis responses. Ah-ha, she must be understanding us now. Ahem, hello, Commander, doctor Veiss, pleased to meet you. It has been a while, good to have you back!"

\- "Umm, I don't think doctor Iatrosa would approve of us bringing her to full consciousness yet at this stage", another voice whispered.

\- "Point taken. Well, back to sleep, it seems. Keep monitoring monoamine, oxytocin and cortisol levels."

* * *

\- "Hmm-hmmm… hmm-hm-hm-hm-hmmm..."

Eilikrini Afelis hummed to herself as her fingers danced on the datapad, faster, slower, then faster again. Her omnitool fed music into her ear, which she wasn't supposed to be doing, but who could resist in these late hours of boredom. The changing tempo of the festive piece gave her much joy. Taking stock of equipment and reserves was of utmost importance these days, desperation leading people to pilfering and black market. The small container in the shelf in front of her could be turned into a week of warm meals for a family.

But not by her. Eilikrini swiped another tab close and moved to the next. She was proud to be given this responsibility. The best of hospitals needed her. She felt valuable. None of the drunken clients had ever appreciated the finesse of her dancing - the butterfly, the pooling water, the rising spark - neither did her employer ever show any hint of the blossoming career she had been promised.

\- "Hmm-hmh-hm-hm-hmm…"

Arjun had appreciated what she was capable of. He had been ashamed to approach her at first, thinking her dance to be just a front for a more vulgar occupation. But he had known art and recognized things that shone even in the seediest of places. Going to Earth had seemed a strange choice at first, she had had preconceptions of the place and, to be honest, of the people, but she had trusted Arjun. Her friends had warned her against it, telling coarse stories, but she would not let them slander Arjun. Things were difficult at first, but she knew that with time, she had better chances there than in Illium or Omega. She was not naive, and she knew he was right.

\- "Debussy's not 'quaint'!" Arjun had raised his voice indignant but had laughed and launched himself into a lecture. 'Suite bergamasque' had become theirs. She always remembered the expectant glimmer in his eyes when he played it to her for the first time.

\- "Hm-hmh-hmh-hmh-hmmm…"

Then everything had fallen apart. They had been away from Earth and couldn't get back, so Arjun had come to work here. And now... Now, every helping hand was needed here, and she needed this. The trust Arjun had shown in her had given them enough trust to let her work even here, in this room.

She disliked this room. It weren't the mountains of delicate equipment that intimidated her, but the person strapped in them. She couldn't see her properly, but she had seen enough vids. She looked elegant in all those pictures, towering above all, eyes staring into the distance, jaw clenched in determination, posture fearless in the face of the horrible enemy. The praises heaped on her, the stories she had heard. There had been less admirable stories earlier, like the one of the Bahak incident, and it made her confused. People like her occupied a world of their own.

Still, she was not as beautiful as her Arjun. He had been filled with kindness. A warm light in his eyes. The enemy didn't appreciate kindness. His kindness hadn't saved him. Still, that kindness was what made everything worthwhile. In the end, she had only been able to make him feel a little more comfortable. He had asked for the pain to go away, and finally she had acceded. They had been together. That was more than many had been allowed.

Eilikrini gave a trembling sigh and swiped another tab closed. This was important work. She mattered here. For that she was thankful. Arjun would have been proud. Proud and just as bored, she smiled to herself and made ready to leave.

\- "Hmm… hmm… hmm-hm-hmmm..."

Eilikrini yelped as a hand grabbed her wrist. The hold was trembling and weak, but she didn't dare move.

\- "Please, I'm sorry…", she started and quickly shut off the music.

Eilikrini looked at the pale and bruised hand, but was afraid to pry it off. Without the music, everything came back to her. The room stank of antiseptics and sickness. Her sinuses burned slightly from the dry air. The bandaged figure laid still except for the gripping arm and a laboriously rising and falling chest. The machine that loomed over the bed - a geometric crossbreed between a praying mantis and an anemone - gave a whiny hum. White noise slowly shifting pitch. A steady beeping that didn't feel reassuring anymore. It was a demanding beep.

\- "Please, let me go…", she said.

The hand let go and slowly and laboriously formed a pointing finger. It wavered at the machine that beeped.

\- "Let me call the doctor."

The pointing finger made a weak but demanding thrust at the machine.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

\- "I- I don't understand. I'm not a doctor or a nurse. I just help here."

The finger wavered, but kept pointing.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

\- "I'm sorry, I don't know how to help you. I don't understand these machines."

Seconds became longer. She wanted so much to leave, but couldn't.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

\- "I'm not supposed to touch them. I might end up hurting you."

The finger pointed more vigorously.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Her voice started to break. She couldn't be asked something like this.

\- "I'm sorry. I just- I just take inventory. I just... take inventory. I want to help, but I can't - "

A doctor rushed in with two nurses.

\- "What did you do?! God damn it, what did you do?" He yelled angrily, rushed at the readouts and started jabbing his fingers at the interface.

The pointing hand slowly clenched closed and fell to hang down over the bed's railing in resignation.

Beep.

Beep.

Eilikrini burst in tears as she was pulled away by one of the nurses.

\- "I didn't do anything, I swear. She wanted to, but I couldn't-"

\- "Get her out of here!" the doctor yelled.

The nurse led her out. He gave a pat on her shoulder.

\- "Don't worry, he knows you didn't do anything. He's just angry because of the stress. We've been close to losing the patient many times, and they've heaped a lot of expectations on his shoulders."

\- "It's just that I think she wanted me to... I just couldn't… I couldn't…"

* * *

Time was running out. Everything was almost monochromatic: black of the night sky, soot stained ruins and their chitin black hulls. Grey of dead faces covered in ash and dust. White of muzzle-flashes and the blinding column of light. They drained the color out of all life, the red hail of their fire spilling the red of our blood. _We_ were running out.

And here I was, a speck rushing down a field of rubble and fire and ash at a towering column of searing white light stretching up to the sky. The dark shapes of the last remnants of Hammer forces were desperately running along, disappearing in the red beams that lashed out and swiped burning across the field. Running, dodging, praying, cursing. An overwhelming barrage of sensory input. My lizard brain keeps me alive. Heat of the beams, itch of sweat, burning in my lungs, taste of blood and dirt, stench of burnt matter, ache of tired muscles and hastily tended wounds, roar of the machines piercing my ears, sting of the rain of debris hitting my face.

There was an explosion ahead and I barely managed to avoid a transport as it rolled and crashed down just beside me. Getting back up, a little dazed, I took a quick look behind, and saw Liara running. A wash of love, pride, need, fear, and regret surged through me. Damn it, focus. I should have stopped her from coming. No reason for both of us to-

A Mako was sent flying through the air. Time stopped. It flipped around, tipped over just a little ahead of Liara, slammed down and exploded.

I screamed, trying to get up, bolts of blue light arcing uncontrollably at the hands which tried to bring me down. I swung at them, one staggering away, and I yelled in despair and pain while the energy rippled and seared my own hands and arms and flung debris around.

\- "Shepard! Calm down! It is okay!"

Suddenly I was enveloped in a sheath of energy that pressed closer and closer. It made me unable to move apart from the shaking muscle convulsions and my own biotic energy surging and sputtering inside me, raw and unpredictable. Teeth grinding, breathing in gasps, the jolts of energy within me started subsiding and I slowly began to see the wrecked room around me. I was lying on the floor, beside an overturned hospital bed, linens torn and burned, a small piece of the opposite wall turned into a heap of fine-grained dust on the floor, sparks of electricity and small tendrils of smoke billowing from crashed instrument cabinets along the walls. I tried to fight against the energy constraining me, but managed only to let out a frustrated grunt, my muscles too weak against the force holding me still. Pieces of paper fluttered down, singed from the edges. Broken glass and small instruments were scattered on the floor. A burly looking orderly was standing up slowly holding his jaw, staring at me in hesitation. Another one was dabbing his hands in medigel, visibly pained. A nurse was kneeling down with an injector poised in his hand. My eyes widened, I started panting from the effort and anxiety, my tired muscles fighting against the energy field. An asari in doctor's garb was extending her palm at me calmly but determined, keeping me firmly within the hold of the bubble, but smiling reassuringly.

\- "You will be fine, you are safe, everything will be all right."

As the liquid from the syringe started coursing through my veins, my heart stopped crashing against my ribcage, my breathing started to calm down, the throbbing in my head slowly faded to something tolerable.

\- "I am doctor Vela Iatrosa", the asari stated in a calm friendly voice, articulating the words intentionally slowly and clearly, but still not removing the constraining bubble of energy from me. Her lavender skin was accentuated by only a few white straight linear markings at her temples and her lower lip and chin.

\- "You were hurt quite badly, Commander Shepard, and it has taken us some time to heal you. There have been and still are some complications with the numerous augmentations within you. I hope you could try to stay as calm as possible and not exert yourself physically or mentally. I believe you were having some very emotional dreams. It would have been easier, if we could have had our first talk in a more collected moment, without any of these ... complications. " The doctor panned her eyes around the havoc wrought in the room with a sympathetic smirk at the last sentence.

I started feeling slightly woozy, and the doctor frowned slightly as she noticed it.

\- "There must be many questions you want answered," doctor Iatrosa started as she dispersed the constraining bubble and calmly motioned others to help lift me on a gurney as it was being rolled into the room. I was too tired and numbed to move a muscle.

\- "First, I do have to apologize for some of my colleagues that might have caused some unpleasant experiences for you earlier. We have had some difficulties administering anesthetics properly, with the way some of your implants process these substances, especially in their less than optimal state. There are some who may have been perhaps a little too eager to see your condition improving. I hope your recent experiences have not been too painful or disturbing. I sincerely believe we are in a better situation now, so do not worry."

The doctor seemingly caught herself, with a mannerism of a smile and restrained bashfulness, and continued, "Ah, forgive me, I am rambling. There are many questions we would like to ask you as well. Nevertheless, now is not the time. Let us get you properly tucked in and resting for a while. Time for discussions later."

Doctor Iatrosa helped the nurse to check the burns in my hands and redress wounds that had started bleeding again. The orderlies seemed to become more relaxed.

I noticed how much dressing I was wrapped in. I gasped as I realized how mangled my body must be under all the bandaging and numbing medication. The doctor sensed my sudden anxiety and laid her hand on my cheek as a calming gesture. She looked into my eyes and continued, "For the moment, let it suffice to say that you did it and we all made it. We are safe and I believe we all have you to thank for a great deal in that." She paused to smile reassuringly and stared into my eyes meaningfully. Her professional demeanor melted for a moment as her eyes betrayed a hint of sadness mixed with a great deal of relief and gratitude.

\- "Now, rest," she stated emphatically and wiped my chin once with her thumb as she straightened up and resumed her calm and organized role.

It was getting harder to focus my thoughts as the orderlies started to roll me away from the wrecked room, trailing monitoring equipment. Only a weak croak came out of my throat: "L-Lia-rah?" Before fading away into drug induced unconsciousness, I only managed to see the doctor's expression turn into one of pensive compassion.


	4. Chapter 4 - Trauma Junkie

**4\. Trauma Junkie**

His mandibles rattled as the smooth velvet of relief slid down on him. The hypo rolled in his slackening grasp and fell to the floor. He held his breath and then let out a long sigh. When he finally opened his eyes, the beams of light from passing skycars outside the window didn't seem so sharp anymore. One by one, the beams swept his small apartment. From unkempt bed. Through the piles of dirty dishes in the kitchenette. To the door with it's dents and scratch marks he didn't really feel sorry about anymore. His worries had become the beams of light. Slipping under the door. Leaving, one by one. And the sweet spirits of pharmacy danced in his brain.

Things went on slipping by. He didn't feel hungry, but thought about getting up for a cold glass of water. Maybe just rest a little then he'd go, he told himself. He thought he heard someone promise to pick up tomorrow's rations, but that'd be just silly. There's no-one else on the room.

His father said to him, "As long as you apply yourself with full commitment". He was talking about aspirations to rise in the hierarchy, then prominence in C-Sec, and afterwards about respect for the paramedics. But he was just fine not remembering their faces right now. He was just turning away at street corners, you know, to avoid meeting them. Little things, like, staying off spinward near the hospital. Even those little things, they had left, gone to taunt someone else. Right now, it was all good. He wouldn't mind even their shuttles flying by the windows, sirens bleating.

Oh right, the water. He'd really mustn't forget to get up for that glass of water. Still, he wouldn't mind _them_ rushing to some shooting victim, it's what they do. It's an occupation, no, a calling! Or a vacuum exposure case or third degree burns at the reconstruction sites. Exchanging double shifts to sleeping through much of the day was just fine, too. He didn't really think about whether he was letting everyone down or not, that would be an unhealthy approach. Nonconstructive. He didn't mind not thinking about return for investment in his training. The cross-species course material itself was, well just money. The team would integrate just fine after he stepped down.

He was just fine here. Mellow, even. No staccato sounds, pungent smells or strobe of colours. That was just the calls, every - single - call this last few months. But not now. Now it was just _fiiiine_. Now he could just get up, walk to the sink and get a glass of sweet cold water. Just like that, if he felt like it.

Not that he would've minded. He never did. Not the screaming. That's what people have glands for, they all do. Humans got adrenalin, asari have something else and he's got… you know. People snap into action and deal with it. Of course, it was the sniveling and sobbing that was a bit harder. Those tended to creep into your dreams slowly and sneakily. But you just got up, went to relief yourself, grabbed a glass of water and got back to bed. Which reminded him he had a funny taste in his mouth.

And sometimes it was the smells. He was used to acrid smoke and he'd gotten tolerant to the putrid side of decaying things. It was the sweet side in the mix that got to him. It kind of ruined the memories of their old hydroponics at home in Palaven. All that ripening fruit, juices glistening in the sun, flies buzzing. Hard to enjoy a nice succulent pear without thinking of…

He really needed to get that glass of water. Where was he? Yeah, the blinding flashes of light. Same thing as with the noises: glands and experience. Blackwatch, N7, Spectres, all the same. _Neuropeptide-Y dampening the endocrine system, leading to lowered levels of stress hormones, diminished fear response, and thus, elevated performance_. Ha, human physiology was a cakewalk.

Of course, if it was bad, if he had a headache, sometimes it felt like even the colours were off. But he could avoid bright places, drop a few pills, wash it down with a glass of water, get it over with. Chemistry, no big deal.

Red was a bad colour though. Why does it have to be red with them? Same red his father had used for his colonial markings. As a kid he'd thought his father would always come to save him, no matter how badly he might hurt himself. Climbing the rocks, the stupid hunting trips with the neighbour's boys. Once he had crashed the skycar he'd borrowed without permission. The red crowning father's stern but caring glare.

His mandibles itched. He rubbed his eyes. He really needed that glass of water. His eyes closed, he saw the red trickling through under the crack in the door while they hesitated to open it. Like they were just sleeping, balled up all tiny and peaceful. Red so sticky he kept wiping and wiping, but it had just smeared his hands more. For days and days, there were so many of them, piled in heaps. Long corridors were painted with the stuff. Public shelters with collapsed bulkheads. Private apartments where the residents had simply given up.

The remaining strands of her hair had been red too, just clumps and stubble. She had looked so bad they had almost skipped her over and continued to look for others. The new guy, volunteer, what was his name, had vomited. On the way back, in the cramped shuttle, as he had tried to fix her dangling arm, it had hit him. The nagging feeling of something familiar had formed into a fist and punched the air out of him. Spirits, he had recognized that woman! He had seen her in all those pictures and vids. She had looked so different in them, but it was her. After victory at last, after all the bitter, grief-stained relief and elation, there she had been. The one who brought them together and led them to victory. Battered, ruined, neglected. Another near-carcass tossed aside by the uncaring universe. Not even a clean end after all she'd done.

Death was a fact of life. Something everyone in the Hierarchy is prepared for. A part of his job and certainly a part of her job. But to be robbed of the least bit of dignity like this. Why the hell does it gnaw at him like this?

He hadn't said anything. After they had arrived and they were hurrying her stretcher away, he had just left.

He was thirsty. His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. He started fumbling for the hypo again. Wearing off this soon? Had he been ripped off? Was the shit watered down?

His omnitool bleeped and he tried to shut it off, but he hit the wrong button. The familiar voice of his partner scratched through his ears and he grunted. "Rianus, you there? Where the hell have you been? We've been trying to reach you for ages. Boss gave up on you a long time ago. Look, no one's blaming you for anything. Just don't disappear like this. Do you want to go grab something to eat? Talk this over?"

The turian waited for the quiet hiss of the hypo and growled before answering, "I'm not coming back. Stop pestering me." He punched the connection close and the smoothest of waves washed over him. He didn't mind the universe and all the shitty entropy anymore.


	5. Chapter 5 - Bearings

**5\. Bearings**

Shepard leaned her arm against the window pane, resting her forehead on it, eyes shaded from the bright sun. Afternoon lunch traffic had lulled to a trickle in the skyways. A family of three was still having a picnic in the small park below.

She pushed herself off the window and started pacing the floor again. Numbers on the readout blipped to thirteen twenty-three. What was keeping them?

The door chimed and hissed open.

\- "What's their answer, sir?" Shepard asked as Rear Admiral Moschella entered.

\- "The board has still to convene, they have a lot on their hands and are unable to meet you."

\- "They must have some strategy by now. It has been months since my full report!" Shepard said exasperated. "Any progress on cooperation with the other Council species?"

\- "I'm sorry, commander, your status is still pending while under investigation. Information like that is classified."

\- "Look, I understand the need to keep it under wraps to avoid full scale panic, but there must have been some preparations already, some contingency plan you're adapting for a threat like this: public safety and evacuation procedures, population transfer logistics and so on. Some non-classified information must have leaked. Give me that at least!"

\- "I'm sorry, commander, I have nothing to add."

\- "You can't be serious! At least tell me you have some early warning system up. We know they're coming through batarian space."

\- "I know what you stated in your report. We've discussed this many times already."

\- "Okay, okay...", Shepard muttered and massaged her temples in thought. "Let me have some unofficial meeting with a suitable non-disclosure agreement for all parties. A handful of tacticians, N7 veterans, maybe a few Council liaisons 'eavesdropping'", she started explaining. "We'll compare notes for a day or two, make some memo about platoon tactics. Grassroots work. What to expect when going against ground troops based on what we know about husks and the Collectors. There are people out there who've had experience fighting them. Even your own son..." Shepard left the sentence trailing, sensing from the Rear Admiral's tightening jaw, that this wasn't an avenue worth pursuing.

She paced around, flipping and zooming through schematics on her datapad, picking up and offering new ones to the rear admiral, her hands slicing the air, cutting the problem to smaller pieces.

\- "Maybe a Spectre could join, they're not so tightly bound by protocol but understand non-disclosure. Maybe another meeting about ship and fleet tactics", she went on with a voice starting to hint desperation. "We could expand on the preliminary outlines that were part of my initial report. A system-to-system guerrilla warfare guide, to buy some time. Roll it out unofficially, as input for Strategic Command and the Council. Sign them yourself, take the credit, I don't care. They can extrapolate from those for the time being..."

Rear Admiral Moschella held his hands up.

\- "Commander, please. I'm surprised you still are unable to grasp the gravity of your situation. Your actions as the first human Spectre have immense political significance. Right now, batarians are calling for your head on a platter. They call your actions in Bahak a war crime. They've called it 'the work of a lunatic on a path of personal revenge, an attack on the Hegemony's sovereignty spearheading a larger human encroachment, and an outright invasion.' They've also made accusations that it was all sanctioned by the Council, which ties our hands even further. We have reports of fleet movements along borders, which underline their seriousness quite effectively!"

Shepard stared at him in disbelief for a moment.

\- "That is bullshit and you know it! Call Hackett and Anderson. We can't afford to play this game amongst ourselves any longer. Let the legal department and politicians do their work, while we do ours. "

The rear admiral let the tone of his voice tell the commander her use of language was not appreciated.

\- "Your access to the Admirals is limited at this stage of investigation. Their continued contact with you during your disappearing act has raised a few eyebrows. A simple matter of impartiality, as you should well understand."

Rear Admiral Moschella raised his voice to prevent Shepard from speaking.

\- "Commander. What happened at Mindoir was a tragedy, but we cannot let the troubled background of a single soldier be used as a weapon against the whole Alliance and human species."

Shepard felt strangled by the futility. Her voice became cold.

\- "A tragedy? The losses of the fifth fleet in Sovereign's attack were a tragedy. The losses of our colonies to the Collectors were a tragedy. This isn't about me, or anyone's political career. We have to prepare, we have to change our strategies. Change is uncomfortable, but if we don't change this time, we don't stand a chance. We're as good as dead when they arrive. It won't be a tragedy, it will be extinction. For all the Citadel species. So please, let me do my part."

* * *

\- "… again wearing off faster than- Oh, here we go. Commander? Could you please blink twice if you can hear me."

The brightness of the light hurt Shepard's eyes. A gust of small needles tickled her eye sockets.

\- "It is I, doctor Vela Iatrosa, do you remember?"

As a kid, she had fallen through a bush of nettles. That fresh tangy smell came to her now, stronger than the stinging. She needed to move her aching joints, and bed sheets abrading her skin were a small worry. She carefully opened her eyes again, to look at the backlit shape sitting beside her bed. The asari waved her hand at a panel and the lights dimmed to better accommodate Shepard.

\- "I am terribly sorry about this. It is the medication we used to wake you. The difficulty of finding proper dosage to work with your filtering implants is absolutely frustrating. Do not worry, though, I am confident we will solve the problem eventually." The doctor patted her shoulder lightly.

Shepard slowly realized there were less bandages than she remembered. The pain was duller. She was hooked up to less machines. She managed to move her arms, a little. She tried to rise up, to get up on her elbows. Her body rewarded the effort with a wave of nausea and she slumped back. Her tongue was a dried husk and her frontal lobe felt swollen enough to crack her skull.

\- "It is still best to take things slowly. Your body has been under a lot of strain. We have kept you sedated for a while after our previous meeting caused some minor complications. Nothing to worry about, but the amounts of medication we have had to use will have their side effects."

Shepard grabbed the edge of the bed with a hand shaking from weakness and tried to pull herself up again. She managed to lean on her elbow, but the sickening feeling took over and she slumped back again. The doctor rushed to raise the head side of the bed so Shepard could see the room better.

\- "You poor thing. Are you going to be just as stubborn in the future?" the doctor spoke softly while she settled Shepard back down on the pillows and wiped the cold sweat from her patient's face. She adjusted the dosage of the intravenous slightly and poured a glass of water for Shepard.

\- "What's the... situation?" Shepard's voice was hoarse and weak, coming out only a few words at a time. She thought of a sheet of frozen ammonia cracking under boot on some trans-Neptunian ball of rock.

\- "I need... a debrief."

Vela took Shepard's hand and spoke softly.

\- "Everything is fine, do not worry. There are many people who have been asking to see you, but I have kept them at a distance so you can have your time to heal. I am not sure you are aware of the extent of your injuries."

\- "I can hear you… and speak. That's… enough", Shepard said, taking a few more sips of water between words.

\- "Very well. Some of your friends and colleagues have visited more than a few times. The Alliance and representatives of the Interim Council species have been almost as persistent. You do not have to feel any obligation to see them beyond what your health and own feelings allow. At the moment, your well-being comes first. I will take care of them, so you can rest."

Shepard beckoned weakly at the door with her bandaged arm.

\- "Get them. I need... to know... the situation."

\- "If you insist. I will arrange a visit. Before that, you should rest."

* * *

A small delegation of Alliance higher brass milled in as doctor Iatrosa opened the door for them. After her adamant insistence, two fully armored guards stepped back out and stayed at the observation and waiting area beyond the room. She gave dire warnings for everyone not to tire the commander too much. The creases of worry on their faces and lack of sleep in their eyes made them look very old to Vela, even though she knew many were relatively young even in human terms. The responsibilities laid on them were new to many of them. There were not many in the galaxy who had not learned to cope with new situations and step up for the challenges.

She saw that most were not comfortable coming to meet Shepard. It wasn't easy to meet a person of her fame, especially when the bedridden person before them currently looked a far cry from the legend of their expectations. They stayed at a respectful distance.

Shepard recognized the voice of admiral Hackett and slowly opened her eyes.

\- "Admiral", she mumbled in a parched voice. She swallowed laboriously, shifted her eyes to a young man and continued, "Major Moschella? I have… met your father… My condolences." The nervous young man simply nodded, aware of Shepard's presence in Vancouver on the day of the invasion where his father had died. He regained his pose, a little firmer than earlier.

Admiral Hackett took a step closer.

\- "Commander Shepard. I know I speak for all of us in this room, for every soldier and - damn it - for every sentient being out there in the galaxy. It is good to see you alive and well. You had me really scared by the end there. There'll be time for proper accolades later on, but for now I just want to say you did one hell of a thing. You're a goddamn hero to the humanity and every other species out there. We all owe our lives to you."

Vela saw Hackett measuring the woman with his eyes. Despite his hard appearance, she saw the respect he held for the woman.

Shepard closed her eyes and mumbled in a parched voice, "The Reapers, sir, ... are they gone... for good?"

\- "Here, have some water", the doctor offered a sip. As Shepard drank, admiral Hackett replied, "Yes. They're gone. We prevailed."

\- "Are you... absolutely... sure?"

\- "Pretty damn sure," he said with a nod. "As far as anyone can tell, they are all destroyed and whatever pieces of wreckage are left of them, are completely inert. As are all their ground troops."

Shepard tightened her jaw.

\- "Good."

She let out a long shuddering sigh and slumped back to the pillow. She closed her eyes and the crease in her brows smoothed over for a moment. Her voice cracked as she said, "It's finally done."

\- "Yes. You did it", the asari said smiling as she smoothed the bristly patches of hair on Shepard's head that were slowly growing back.

Shepard opened her tired eyes a little again.

\- "How is it.. out there?" she asked, struggling with the words, her shoulders tense again.

\- "Reparations have begun on Earth. Most urban centers are in bad shape. The damage to infrastructure was immense. But we will persevere. Everyone knows how close we came. Everyone is doing their part. And more." Doctor Iatrosa gave a sideways glance at the admiral.

\- "What's the... status of Sword... and Shield? What... were the... losses?" she asked, struggling with the words, her shoulders tense again.

Admiral Hackett said in a grave voice, "I will not lie to you, Commander. Despite all our preparations and the unprecedented joint efforts of all the species, the losses of the fleets were staggering. Hundreds of cruisers and frigates were lost as were many dreadnoughts. Those that remain are in bad shape. But we succeeded. We protected the Crucible and bought enough time for Hammer, for you. Be proud of all our achievements. Nothing in the histories of our civilizations compares to this."

Shepard clenched her jaw and set her eyes on the smooth tiling on the ceiling. The shapes were clean, sparse and functional. They looked the same in every ship, station and groundside. Where were they?

\- "How many are... left of Hammer?"

Hackett looked at Shepard, hoping to catch her gaze.

\- "Fifty percent made it to the ground, as you know. After the battle was over… Not many." Again, Vela noticed the omission.

\- "Palaven, Tuchanka… Thessia? What of the rest... of the galaxy?"

\- "We… We don't know."

\- "What do you... mean?" Shepard's voice rose slightly and she creased her brows weakly.

\- "The Charon relay sustained heavy damage in the surge of energy from the Crucible that destroyed the Reapers. Nothing gets through. We have no communications outside Sol and the few nearest colonies that can be only reached in conventional FTL. Scouts have been sent to them. We are redeploying our comm buoy networks, but those can reach only so far without the relays."

Hackett weighed his words for a moment.

\- "It's hard to say yet exactly how this has affected the civilian population, even here at Earth and the Citadel. I doubt we will ever know exact numbers."

It took Shepard a long while to form her next question.

* * *

First lieutenant Mattin Ochoa stood at ease, facing the door to the hallway. Currently, he was curling and stretching his toes - one muscle group at a time going through the routine of maintaining blood flow and preventing muscle cramps while remaining completely still to the eyes of outside observers.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw his partner, second lieutenant Mark Inoue, a taciturn fellow, standing with his back to the room where everyone else was gathered. Mattin doubted Inoue had any organic muscles left at all. In all these years, he had never even caught him squinting his eyes while on guard duty or parade. Nor did he expect Inoue to pry for details later, even if Mattin was the only one with some kind of view to what was happening in the room they were guarding. The guy was no fun on shore leave, but Mattin had learned to trust his life on his hands in all circumstances. After the incident with the indoctrinated officer, he owed him.

Their posture was enough to repel all casual wanderers from the room, hospital staff or otherwise. A single skittish asari had wavered at the door for a while, then clutched a datapad to her chest, squared her shoulders and walked to a monitor at the corner of the anteroom they stood guard in. He had watched her jot through something on her pad before quickly (but with a graceful step, he noted) going back the way she came.

Ochoa finished his muscle routine and allowed himself to briefly flick his eyes over the room they were guarding. Just in case. He had overheard rumours and felt responsible for minor observation, though they had been sworn to absolute non-disclosure on this particular assignment.

He couldn't see the patient from behind the backs of the admiralty. Ochoa had met the commander once. Well, he had seen her, although they hadn't actually spoken. Same job, security detail for Hackett, they had been onboard the Normandy briefly before the big fight. She had nodded to him in acknowledgement, but wouldn't have recognized him through his helmet. Now there was a story to tell to the posterity, if the details just would someday be declassified.

He wondered how it now felt safe to think about future. Future with someone like Sanitwong from Charlie company. Or that nurse with graceful steps. He grinned at the hallway.

Movement in the room caught his attention. The brass was backing up toward the door, the asari doctor ushering them to leave. Ochoa and Inoue snapped to attention as the door bleeped and slid open. The rest were muttering and exchanging looks as they filed out, only Hackett turning around at the door to say, "Get well, commander."

Inoue had already started at the front, but Ochoa waited for Admiral Hackett with a questioning look. Hackett only shook his head and waved them to leave following the rest. Mattin took a final look behind, and saw the asari doctor wipe her brow before reaching to close the door. Their eyes locked for a moment, but he suspected the asari was seeing nothing but her own thoughts.

* * *

The door hissed, revolved and bleeped, closing the galaxy outside the room. Doctor Iatrosa turned to look at the commander, who was lying limply among the crumpled bedsheets. On the far wall a large vidscreen displayed a brook bubbling quietly among green moss and red pointedly lobed leaves. Must be Earth flora, Vela thought. Shepard's head was turned towards the vidscreen, but her eyes were not seeing it. Her face was a plain mask. Vela sat beside the bed, and gently took hold of Shepard's hand. Shepard did not react in any way. Vela sat there quietly until she sensed the commander fall asleep.


	6. Chapter 6 - Second Vigil

**6\. Second Vigil**

\- "Out of my way, human!" A booming voice growled in the hallway. The door opened and a hulk of a krogan clad in red armor stomped through.

\- "Shepard! Came as soon as I heard you had woken up again! Damn pyjak herders are skimpy on invitations. As if the Alliance brass had more important things to say," he growled at the door.

Wrex tread his way through various equipment as carefully as his big frame allowed. Seeing Shepard up close, he stopped, unsure whether even touching her was safe.

\- "Damn, all those bruises make you look almost as purple as an asari. A few more scars and you'll look almost as handsome as me! Don't you go hogging all mating requests, we have a species to repopulate here."

Shepard seemed to just lie there, breathing slowly. Wrex eyed her for a moment.

\- "I was sure you were gone when the Citadel blew up and lit the sky. Shouldn't have doubted. Look at you - you came back from the center of the biggest explosion in the galaxy since… I don't know, the Big Bang? That's something worth bragging about. I just wish you'd left at least a few Reapers alive. Why'd you have to go and kill all of them, I could have gladly whacked a couple more of them around while enjoying the afterglow," he bellowed and punched his hands together. Wrex grunted slightly and rubbed his shoulder.

He leaned in to whisper.

\- "Who am I kidding. It was cutting really close back there. Had me worried for a moment. Don't you go spreading that around though, or I'll have to come back and make you even more handsome. A reputation to hold and all that, the demands of leadership."

Wrex stood silently for a moment, staring at Shepard with narrowed eyes.

\- "Have you seen the young welp yet? He seems a little lost lately. Maybe he's feeling anxious now that the action is over and he's got no-one to bruise his knuckles with. You should really talk to him, if he comes around. Give a motherly whack over his thick head."

Wrex lifted a bottle from behind his back and rapped his fingers against the glass surface.

\- "Would've brought you ryncol, but you're still in recovery. They said this is the next best thing, though I didn't quite get all that blabbering about the 'fine peat aroma'."

He laid the bottle on the table next to Shepard's bed with a thunk. The lightly golden liquid swirled around the bottle. Thick legs clung to the sides as it slowly ran down and settled.

\- "Okay, maybe you're feeling too tired to listen to the ramblings of an old war horse. I got a few heads to crack anyways. A bunch of Uvenk idiots found out you have fish farms on the planet. Now they need to be taught the finer aspects of maintaining a viable population so we don't all run out food by the end of the year. Irony, right? My knuckles are already itching for this pedagogical opportunity. Catch you later, when you're feeling more talkative."

Wrex waited another moment, before making a short grumbling noise and sauntering away.

* * *

 _Dear diary,_

 _I woke up early today. I had a good night. Not that many bad dreams. The car the pretty lady brought helped. I had porredge again. Lots of porredge. I'm never saying porredge tastes like es-en-oh-tee again. Mom would be proud. Guess what, I saw Blasto today! The real Blasto! They came and they went to every room and they said hello to all of us. Joe hid under his blanket. He is such a wimpy head. And Blasto showed me his guns and let me hold one while they took pictures of us. Here's the picture:_

 _It's not a real gun. I knew it. I'm not stupid. I'm ris-pon-sibul. I'd show mom how risponsibul I am. And then Blasto showed me his scar. Hanar scars are gross!_

 _I have to go now. The pretty lady will come soon to make my bed. I'll tell her it doesn't matter the wheel is missing. She told me it's the same car The Shepard used to drive on her adventures. I can fix it when I can get out of the bed again._

* * *

Justicar Samara sat cross legged on a table facing the observation window. Her eyes were shining with a bright internal glow. The meditative concentric shells of mass effect fields she was maintaining between her hands were radiant with excited photons.

Shepard was lying on the bed, eyes closed. She was still partly covered in bandages, and the bruises visible on her exposed skin were mostly turning yellow.

Samara had been sitting at the exact same spot for a good half an hour, when she spoke.

\- "I have changed, Shepard, " she said.

Shepard remained lying, the only movement being her chest rising with the rhythm of her breathing.

\- "I have much to do. Opportunists and profiteers to take care of. Society to rebuild. Culture to preserve. Still, I find myself distracted at times. I haven't been distracted from my responsibilities in centuries. I follow the Code", Samara spoke calmly, still facing the window and holding the revolving ball of light.

\- "I was prepared to not survive. I said my farewells", she kept calmly explaining.

\- "Now, the relay prevents me from leaving the Sol system. I find myself worrying over Falere", she said and the ball of energy fizzled away into thin air. She drooped her head and breathed deeply before nimbly climbing down. She walked over to Shepard's bedside and gently took hold of her hand.

\- "It serves no purpose to worry over matters one cannot affect in any way."

She looked at Shepard.

\- "Yet here we are."

Shepard's chest rose and fell with her breathing. After a while, Samara gently laid her hand back down the blanket. She bowed lightly and backed away.

At the door, she stopped and inclined her head for a moment.

\- "I trust we will find our peace", she said and left.

* * *

Caeso was eleventh generation C-Sec. Traditions ran deep in his family as did expectations. He was respected, competent in what he did and the income was secure. In the recent years, he had survived more upheavals at the job than he suspected any of his forefathers had. His uncle had seen brief action in the Relay 314 Incident. Many of them had been through complex criminal cases of corruption, brief political tension, even the occasional murder. Some had even received decorations for excelling at their work. Still, they would have to follow the lineage back to krogan rebellions to find anything even comparable to the scale of the recent years.

Nevertheless, he felt stuck to this desk. He wasn't ungrateful, far from it. He'd seen quite enough for a lifetime. What he wanted was to go out there and help. Maybe he ought to take up night schooling and become an engineer. Plenty to do in that area. Maybe father would approve now that things have changed so much. If he'd ever see father again.

His shoulders slumped as the asari approached. Again.

\- "Ma'am, with all respect, haven't we been through this before? I cannot verify the presence of any individuals that might or might not be staying here. I cannot permit you access beyond this area. I cannot help you unless administration has processed the necessary paperwork and you have a proof of-"

The asari waived her omnitool and a string of green icons lit on Caeso's screen. His brow raised, he finished his hanging sentence with a flourished wave of hand, "...clearance. Have a nice day."

His mandibles flared in a grin as he watched at the asari disappear behind the glittering blue curtains of the security scans. He pulled up an extranet search and typed: _civilian engineering curriculum, night school, costs and schedules_.

* * *

The screen was showing a vid of water bubbling between rocks. Fuzzy green stuff on the ground, fallen red leaves and whatever. Grunt paced the floor at the foot of the bed. He kept eyeing Shepard who laid on the bed, looking out the window with a blank stare. Grunt kept grumbling and huffing angrily as he paced. He stopped at the screen, knowing she could see him. Despite that, her eyes didn't meet his.

He growled loudly and lunged at the bed, pushing over a cart with an untouched food tray, stopping mere inches away from Shepard's face. His hot breath blew over Shepard's face as he leaned over her and stared her right in the eyes.

Shepard showed no reaction.

Grunt pushed himself back off the bedside, grabbed the cart from the floor, and swung it at the observation window. A spiderweb of cracks spread throughout the pane, but the cart just bounced back and fell back to the floor. Grunt pushed aside the guard that had rushed into the room and stormed out.

He didn't come back the next day.

Or the day after that.

* * *

\- "Panel hearing on the legal status of synthetics hosted by the Interim Council is on its fifth consecutive day. The historic talks are proceeding slowly despite unprecedented support from the population. Rights groups, various bodies of the academic community and the VI industry are accusing the Interim Council of stalling. Representative Movii Hul of Elkoss Combine stated that the 'Unwillingness to entertain significant decisions independently of the galaxy beyond the relay casts the Interim Council's competence in a bad light.' Interim Council repeated their stance that rushing the legislation could lead to unsustainable problems later, would divert resources from other time critical efforts and that an overly emotional response would not honour the memory of the geth despite good intentions."

\- "In other news, Systems Alliance security and C-Sec advise caution when taking part in Clan Urdnot festivities. The lively events taking place in various locations on Earth, the largest of which are in the London metropolitan area, have overshadowed most official victory celebration events. Cultural experts have dismissed accusations that the Clan Urdnot festivities are 'mere unsustainable drunken revelry', instead lauding the phenomenon 'a unique opportunity to experience less known aspects of krogan traditions and a unique revival of rich pre-uplift traditions'. Practical information on venues, physical safety and etiquette, as well as up-to-date reports on side events, is provided on our extranet site."

\- "This is Alliance News Network, bidding the Galaxy a good night and a bright future!"

* * *

\- "How're you doing?" Jack asked in a low voice.

She kept eyeing the security camera in the corner, aware and annoyed by the lack of privacy. Normal speaking voice or anything louder would be picked up by some guard, or worse yet, by the damn shrink. Every word examined and dissected in her pretty asari head, no doubt. The questions the asari had posed - what's the name, Vela something - had been excessively polite, which had bugged her constantly. She had kept answering, for Shepard's sake, but to a limit. There was a direction with the questions, a theme she could sense, one she didn't like.

\- "They say that talking to you might help you recover. I think that's just some sappy crap they make up for people to feel better sitting here looking at..." Jack started. She stared at the bruised shape sleeping amidst bandages, tubes and bleeping machines.

Jack remembered how Shepard had looked back then, the time she had started visiting her cot below engineering at Normandy. She had hated her guts at first, she had hated everyone at the old Cerberus vessel. The stuck-up Alliance action girl, all business while they sprang her from Purgatory, suddenly acting friendly, leaning casually against the wall, chatting her up. Jack had seen a mile away which team the commander played for. She had been so sure she was just trying to get into her pants.

\- "Quit the act and wake up already, princess."

She'd thought she'd been frank enough about being left alone. Still, the commander had kept coming, insisting on talking crap, prying about her past. Jack remembered thinking she saw right through her, thinking the commander was trying to say how they were alike with the biotics and a fucked up past. That kind of cosying up had pissed her off even more. Of course Shepard hadn't actually claimed anything like that, but she'd been healthily paranoid. What she'd read about Shepard from the database she'd been given access to and the rumours the other shipmates had let slip by had made her mind.

Still, the commander had helped her in Pragia. She had saved their asses many times and the collective asses of every idiot they had come across on the way to the Omega relay and back. Up close and personal with all her crew. God damn girl scout. Hard to be angry with someone like that for long.

She had a few good pointers among that goodie-two-shoedness. Things that had worked with the kids. Shepard had come to save the kids from Cerberus in Grissom Academy. She'd wanted to keep the kids safe even in the front lines. The last day of the war... Why the hell did she have to end up there all alone.

\- "You don't have time for this. Everyone's waiting, you wouldn't believe the parties you're missing out on," Jack said.

Jack had felt so stupid about her preconceptions of Shepard's intentions when T'Soni had come to visit the commander. She hadn't pegged Shepard as one with such a soft asari squeeze for some reason. And then it had turned out to be a bit more serious than that. The lengths Shepard had gone to help her, hopping across the galaxy to take over the damn cloudship in Hagalaz. Jack had wanted to say a few choice words to the bluebell, but the look on Shepard's face as T'Soni arrived onboard had stopped her. Not that Jack had been jealous, but how could she have misread the commander so badly? For such a goodie-two-shoes she had a serious barricade behind her facade.

\- "You still remember how to party, right?"

Old Blue hadn't been such a softie as she had first seemed, either. They really had their biotics working fine together. Damn it had felt good seeing them send the Cerberus bastards flying like that at Grissom. If only Jack would get her kids on par with that kind of team work. Still she couldn't quite pinpoint the asari. First, all polite and affectionate but growing suddenly mysterious if pushed. And what was that real name thing supposed to be about, anyways? 'Jennifer' my ass, who gave a shit anymore.

Two saints with secrets to match. So sweet she wanted to gag. They probably wore matching underwear.

Jack laughed briefly.

\- "No dancing though, I don't want your aimless shuffling burned into my retina."

Jack sighed and leaned on the edge of the bed. She wiped her jaw with the edge of her thumb. The asari doctor's questions still bugged her. It's not what she was saying, but what was written between the lines.

\- "Come on. You came this far. Can't quit now. There aren't that many of us left, but... We miss you, damn it, "Jack whispered leaning in close.

Sure could use blueberry here now. Bet Shepard would bolt up right away.

\- "And I owe you. Last time we talked, in London, I was… Shit, it's easy to not give a damn when you're on your own. But with the kids, I needed to keep them safe. It was looking so bad, I got…, " she swallows a word and shakes her head. "You got me back on track."

Jack straightened up and crossed her arms. She gave a dry laugh.

\- "Besides, I kinda promised Rodriguez that I'll introduce you to her brother if we get through this. Take a quick picture and some stupid fanboy shit like that. The kid's probably just looking to get laid waving that photo around in bars, telling stories to air-headed girls. You know you're kinda hot currency out there, don't you?"

* * *

Matriarch T'Sedio slowly circled the cone of light cast from a recess in the ceiling. The long steel blue curve of her right calf slid in and out of the side vent of her long dress on each step.

\- "Vice-primarch's suggestion has it's merits," she said in a deep but soft voice, decorative lapels of her headdress swaying as she nodded.

The vice-primarch widened his stance and his mandibles fluttered lightly.

The matriarch stopped and turned to face the group gathered at the foyer. Her headdress cast long shadows that clung to the dark and light grey stippled curves of her dress.

\- "Interim Council is a structure for continuity. It provides stability which we all need in our time of mourning and rebuilding. It is a unifying element for all the species in the new future we're heading towards, not just for the elder Council members."

Rear admiral Swanepoel straightened his back and lifted his jaw as he cleared his throat.

\- "My apologies for the misconception. We were not suggesting to restrict this only to the Alliance. I should have emphasized that we are proponents of transparency. The processes, which are familiar to the commander, are laid out to automatically share all relevant information to the Interim Council as well."

The rear admiral turned to the Vice-Primarch as he gestured reassuringly and added, "Knowing her, I doubt she would settle for anything less, as a Council Spectre or as an individual."

Matriarch T'Sedio glanced at her escort as she noticed doctor Vela Iatrosa approaching the foyer. The second asari smiled back at the matriarch before nodding to the group, excusing herself and heading out through the hallway in the opposite direction.

\- "Good. It is settled then," the matriarch said and turned to greet the doctor.

\- "Good afternoon, doctor Iatrosa," the matriarch smiled, "We have come to an agreement and would appreciate the chance to have a quiet meeting with Commander Shepard, as I have previously suggested." She opened her arms for doctor Iatrosa in a formal greeting.

Doctor Iatrosa lifted her palm, smiled, gave a respectful nod and continued to walk past them down the hallway without saying a word.

Rear admiral Swanepoel scratched his head before correcting his hat and muttered, "Well, I guess we'll just postpone this. Ladies. Gentlemen." He clicked his heels as he nodded and left.

Matriarch T'Sedio lifted her brow and closed her arms after the strongest puzzlement had subsided. The vice-primarch cleared his throat and clasped his hands behind his back before turning to admire the painting on the wall. A reproduction of a famous pre-Council era asari work, the label said. Something sensual and deeply symbolic, no doubt.

* * *

Shepard heard the door bleep and slide open. Heavy footsteps slowly reached her bed. She could hear the deep rumbling breath.

Moments passed. She heard a thunk as something was set on the table beside her bed.

\- "Saw these. Reminded of Liara. Thought you'd like them."

She heard Grunt shuffle his feet.

\- "Or maybe you won't. Nevermind."

She heard Grunt growl quietly, and slowly walk out. The door slid close with another bleep.

Shepard slowly turned her head and opened her eyes. She saw a simple black cubic flower pot. Blue orchids.


	7. Chapter 7 - Talking Shop

**7\. Talking Shop**

\- "Lieutenant, what do you got for me?"

A young man dressed in navy blues, neck craned over a data pad, was pacing a very small circle behind the room divider curtain and chewing on a piece of stylus. He stopped pacing and jerked his head toward Shepard's bed, startled from his thoughts.

\- "Commander Shepard, y-you're awake! They let me in and I saw you..., I thought- ". The lieutenant caught himself mid-sentence, straightened his back and saluted nervously, yet sharply. "Here as requested, ma'am! If I may add, I'm honored to be able to help!"

Shepard returned the salute offhandedly and pushed herself up higher on the bed, her eyes on the lieutenant's data pad. She tidied up a datapad and stack of hardcopy printout scattered on her blanket, laying them on top of a pile of more papers and a few books stacked on the chair between her bed and a medical scanner.

\- "At ease, lieutenant. Is that the package?"

The young lieutenant clasped his hands behind his back, very focused, and began a litany that sounded practiced. He was clearly proud of his work. Shepard's hopes started to grow. The man's excitement could be a sign of good news.

\- "Yes ma'am. All the relevant data I could gather. Flight plans correlated with available logs before, during and after. Targeting data, damage reports, debris scans. Sensor data from all our combined fleets. In- and off-system sensor networks sadly were and still are nearly nonexistent. All direct observations and possible clues. Fully tagged, categorized and faceted. Took a while to filter, defining relevancy is tricky in this case. Quite proud of some the algorithms, if I may say so."

Shepard nodded with brows creased in thought. Newly kindled hope and stoic realism wrestled within her. A stretching sensation in her back brace made her aware of her quickened breath. A lopsided grin escaped her lips.

\- "Very good. What did you find?"

The lieutenant fidgeted a little. He proceeded to shift through a set of charts visualizing the key points of the data.

\- "By correlating with verified logs, I was able to identify the Normandy's in-system energy traces easily, which gave a preliminary exit vector. I then used that energy signature to filter the delayed off-system observations. Standard evasive maneuvers seem to have been neglected during FTL-initiation, they didn't bother with vector skipping or any back-looping, and the clean blueshift of a high speed object affected by mass effect fields was easy to follow. The bad news is, observations became fuzzier when the relative distance to the shock front became smaller."

The lieutenant gave a pause at this point, revealing that this was the point where he wasn't confident with the practiced part of his speech. Shepard shifted her eyes from the data pad to give a questioning glare at the lieutenant.

\- "Yes?"

The lieutenant swallowed and continued.

\- "When, umm… During and directly after the shock front impact I wasn't able to get reliable data. I mean, there was a lot of data, but the spatial spread and energy frequencies and amplitudes varied a lot. It just wasn't following any known phenomena I could simply adapt to and filter out. There was an initial amplitude spike during the impact. But that could mean anything, I'm not suggesting the, umm… worst."

Shepard's heart beat quickened at this, but she gave no indication of this to the lieutenant. The lieutenant was getting nervous just fine all on his own, but continued.

\- "A-as I was saying, refraction data has not been a good help at these distances, we simply don't have a wide enough array of sensors to pick up on them reliably. The spectrum was quite wide as I said, and I even tried accounting for time dilation in case something very exotic happened. The Lorentz transformations with this many uncertain data points have been really tricky to correlate. I must admit I've had some difficulties finding a vector after the impact."

Shepard was clenching her jaw, unease creeping into her. "I appreciate your thoroughness, but please, let's get to the point: How difficult has it been exactly?"

The lieutenant was wringing his hands. "Well, it's very challenging to create vector candidates, when the size of the set of possible signatures is unknown." He was painfully aware of how badly he had prepared his message for the target audience of his presentation. Sound methodology matters little without a meaningful answer to your question. Professor Procházka would be shaking his head in disappointment. Are you giving a positive or ruling out a negative?

Shepard drew out the words carefully: "How. Difficult."

\- "I'm sorry ma'am. What I'm trying to say is that, I haven't been able to find them after the impact."

Shepard's heart missed a beat. She closed her eyes and rested the back of her head against the headboard of the bed. The lieutenant saw her disappointment, but couldn't grasp at any other options but continuing the same train of thought to it's sad end.

\- "Since the blue shifted emissions from a ship propagate only at the speed of light, I'm still collating new data from a limited set of candidate vectors, in case some positive observations become available. But you can see that even as the past light cone of the impact event was sort of manageable, the amount of raw data presented as time passes and the cone of possible observation points grows in time has become staggering. I'm afraid it's quite impossible for us to use our singular point of perception and processing powers for this task. Even if the pre-Reaper networks were available, the sheer volume of space we're talking about here makes the task unfeasible. The galaxy is huge, and mostly uncharted. If an observable and identifiable event hasn't happened yet, I simply don't have the means to meaningfully search for a new one."

Shepard had stopped listening a while ago.

\- "If they made it through, but their QEC is malfunctioning, it could take a long while before their communication reaches us. Even if the comm buoy network were intact, they could be far away from the nearest buoy. "

The lieutenant kept going on, trying his best to find a solution to what he thought a failure on his part. He felt Prochászkas glare on him. Don't restate the problem, become a part of the solution.

\- "What we need is better sensor and comms network. We need to find possible sensor data dumps from other systems, and sieve through their data. Hopefully many have put them into long term storage in hope there's something useful observable in the Reaper war events. We need to talk about the possible energy signatures of the shock front, to see if someone else has come up with something useful. We need to repair and grow our sensor networks, upgrade preprocessing capabilities with whatever new ideas we got. There's a lot we could use, but it would all come with a price tag."

Shepard refused to be content with the worst option. She chose the scenario where they were alive and within a sensible distance from civilized space. She would just need to improve the odds and work on that.

\- "Don't worry about the resources. I'll find a way to get you what you need. You just figure out a way to do this."

* * *

\- "Thank you lieutenant. I suggest you continue to do as she asked. Necessary clearance is authorized. All reports run through me."

\- "Aye, aye, sir!" the lieutenant saluted. Watching admiral Hackett's silhouette against the dark starfield background, he hesitated.

\- "Do you need something, lieutenant?"

\- "If I may, sir…"

\- "Speak your mind, lieutenant."

\- "You seem less than satisfied with the outcome, sir. If you do not share the commander's confidence in my capability, then why-"

\- "I do not question your capability, lieutenant. We wouldn't be having this conversation if I did."

Hackett turned to stare out at the scattered pinpricks of light beyond. The silence was pregnant with questions.


	8. Chapter 8 - The Fix

**8\. The Fix**

Shepard sat up on her bed breathing fast. Eyes bleary, she quickly glanced around the room. She looked at her hands. She turned them around and rubbed them together vigorously. Slowly her breathing calmed and she rested her head on her hands. She slowly rubbed her eyes with her palms. She exhaled deeply. She slid the blanket from her legs. She let her legs hang over the edge of the bed. She flexed them, curling the toes. The sinews rippled and muscles bulged just like always, though she was thinner.

She carefully stepped down and grasping the support rail, limped to the bathroom. She ran her hand on her stomach. She felt the taut muscles under the skin, again much thinner than she remembered.

After splashing cold water on her face she examined her face. She pulled and rubbed the skin at her ears, cheekbones, nose and jaw. Besides the slight pain, it felt the same. There were more scars, but they were healing. She grimaced to show her teeth and ran her tongue over them. Her tongue didn't snag on chipped edges and missing molars anymore. She looked at her eyebrows and hair that was slowly growing back. She couldn't remember when it had been this short.

\- "You look like crap", she muttered to the woman in the mirror.

She pulled at the puffy skin of dark rings under her eyes. The whites of her eyes were slightly bloodshot. She glanced at the pill bottle, lying on the counter with a few pills scattered beside it. One night of sound sleep without medication would be wonderful. She swept the pills to her hand, dropped them back to the bottle and closed the lid. Just one night.

She stared at the green of her irises. Pinprick black pupils stared back at her under the harsh light.

Shepard returned the pill bottle back on the shelf.

Her fingers accidentally touched the controls and a holographic display lit up on the mirror.

* * *

\- "..and here are the four cortices - occipital, parietal, temporal and frontal - just for a quick orientation. Highlighted in blue is the main implant, this part's where the amp upgrades are installed. You can see here how your L5 model differs from the older L3s structurally."

\- "Yes, I know the basics."

\- "Very well. Now, here, the scattered red spots, are the main eezo nodules responsible for this talent of yours. Highlighted in green, are the conduits delivering the signals and ending in the 'trodes handling the electrochemical interface with the actual nerve tissue. That's the routing required for amplifier's synchronization to work. The blinking parts are what we've repaired. As you can see, there is no direct structural cause to the episode you had. I wouldn't worry about it; It should be just a matter of readjustment and calibration."

\- "Such a fragile lacework."

The doctor laughed dismissively, "It's not hanging in thin air. You'd be surprised how well protected the brain is as an organ and how resilient our bodies are in regards to trauma."

\- "No I wouldn't," Shepard muttered to herself, rubbing the bridge of her nose, feeling the scar. Then she shifted her weight on the bed, grunted, started massaging her shoulder and said, "Show me the rest."

* * *

The magnified image of her own head flashed into view and she squinted her eyes in reaction. Structural and functional annotations shone bright against the darker background of her own reflection. She reached for the image, feeling for the parietal lobe in her fingertips. Haptic feedback was switched off and her fingers slid through the image to the cold glass surface of the mirror. The projected hologram spread in irregular round blotches around her fingers, like surface tension sucking water between layers of film.

 _I wish you'd told me Shepard. I knew it was really you the first time I touched you again._

Would Liara have objected when she asked Mordin to go ahead with the augmentations? Would she have forced her to repeat the same discussion of identity, volition, and... expediency? Would she have acquiesced, despite all, just to keep us going?

The image kept slowly rotating between different parallel planes from sagittal to transverse to coronal. Absent-mindedly, she turned her head to match the reflection to the displayed image. At the end of the rotation her reflection aligned and became a death mask. She quickly switched the display off.

* * *

\- "Organic epidermis and dermis are complex and serve many functions. I understand the weave is nearly imperceptible to yourself, and it does not diminish sensation, heat regulation and evaporation control, sweat excretion and such."

-"Yes, thank you. So you've ruled out abnormalities in nerve tissue, skeletal structure, muscle and skin weave, toxin filters…"

\- "Yes. Most of it all simply works together with the existing organic tissue, not as a replacement. I'm sorry for the inconvenience with your arm, though, the damage was extensive, and we've had troubles with the method and proper materials for the moment. I'm quite sure after a little more research and a few more operations, we can get it back to hundred percent."

\- "Yes, yes", Shepard waved her hand with growing impatience and asked, "And the neural implants themselves?"

The doctor fiddled with his datapad nervously.

\- "The damage to your translator and biotic amplifier implants was mostly limited to the synthetic materials and we presume all functions will return with time and practise, as I said."

Shepard sighed. The doctor looked at her and continued fiddling with his datapad.

\- "Umm, if you don't mind me saying, Commander, you keep coming back to the issue of neural changes. Is there something that troubles you? I assure you we-"

\- "Shepaaard!" A loud bellow from the door interrupted them.

\- "Wrex! Come on in!" A wan smile returned to Shepard's face.

\- "I'll just take my leave, then…" the doctor muttered and slinked out of the door.

\- "Damn, girl, you've seriously let yourself go. That thing's nasty! Have you looked in the mirror lately?" Jack laughed, taking picture with her omnitool and showing it to Shepard.

\- "Yeah. I know I might have mentioned that I kind of missed the old scars from before Cerberus fixed me up, but this is ridiculous", Shepard grinned.

\- "Cheerleader'd fix us all if she'd have her way", Jack sneered, but continued with a slightly more somber tone, "You heard anything from her?"

\- "No. Maybe she got picked up by Normandy. I was told they did a lot of tactical team insertions and medevac before… well…" Shepard's voice trailed off and she looked at the faux window display of an early morning scene of pale birches and meadowsweets wrapped in mist. "Maybe she just decided to retire someplace quiet. Far away from politics and background checks. Zaeed once told me he had a nice place staked out - a bottle of whisky on a small pier, looking at the sunset. And that he'd never again accept incoming calls from me after this was over", she continued, but there was little humor in her voice.

\- "Yeah."

* * *

Shepard weighed the bottle of pills on the shelf with her eyes. She ought to renew the prescription soon.

The tap hissed as she filled a glass. The water was ice cold within her chest, but it was what she needed.

The bottle remained untouched on the shelf as she set the glass back on the counter.


	9. Chapter 9 - Perspiration

9\. Perspiration

Sweat ran down Shepard's forehead, stinging in her eyes. It ran down her back, making her shirt stick to her skin and rub irritably against ill-healed wounds. Skin stretched painfully in places where it had healed in tight scabs. That meant more massages, which she looked forward to - little pockets of relief probably the only pleasant moments in recent days. It also meant more laser therapy, injections and operations with more days lost in post-op recovery, constant itching and other downtime which she didn't look forward to.

She couldn't wait for the day she'd regained full mobility and be able to leave the place. Vanity be damned, some scars ought to be remembered.

Funny how she had gotten used to what she was after Cerberus brought her back. She felt good about how she had felt with Liara: smooth, soft and supple under her touch. With her, she was so much more. Their time together had all but removed the mental disconnect caused by the change.

Seeing a mirror for the first time had been something of a shock, Akuze popping back in her head again. And now, here she was again: handsome enough for a krogan. Yet she didn't care. She had been here before. It only took a while to get used to, to internalize. It had been a little harder back then, when she had been much younger.

Liara wouldn't mind. She would worry on her behalf momentarily, but that would pass. She closed her eyes and smiled. The embracing presence of Liara's mind within hers felt vivid.

Shepard nearly fell, sweat making the bars slippery. She shook her head. Must not drift away like that. She held her breath for a while and exhaled sharply again and again, pacing her breath with the effort. A little further. Her muscles ached, deep inside in places she had forgotten to have muscles in. Her arms had started to shake, last drops of strength inevitably draining. Nevertheless, exercise relieved tension and some pain was actually subsiding. She thought ahead for the moment fatigue would be washed over by endorphin release. Spoken like an addict, she mused to herself. Old fashioned sweating beats stim-therapy, the effort being an important part in mental recovery. She was glad to be able to move after all the time confined in the bed.

Shepard tried to wipe a tickling bead of sweat on her neck by rubbing it against her shoulder. Oh, to have an extra hand right now... She fought the urge to pause the exercise and start scratching it. That would be a point of no return. She thought of Liara running her finger down the scar on her side. The alarmed look on her face, as she had first seen what was usually hidden under Shepard's clothing. It took time before she could allow Liara near some of those memories during their melds. Though Shepard had made her peace with it years ago, she saw little point in letting anyone, least of all Liara, relive through things like Akuze.

Shepard remembered the giant scythes, lunging in wide arcs. Jeffries turning back to look at it, confused by that infrasound wail which resonated in their bodies. The creature just lobbed his body in half casually on its way forward. His torso fell to ground, still upright. His legs were five meters away. And Jeffries just screamed this wordless scream, eyes wide as saucers, his arms straightened out and shaking. He just shook there screaming for a few seconds before going completely limp.

Shepard closed her eyes and angrily blew air out through her nose. Her arms shook even more now.

In her mind she saw thresher maws rearing up, chunks of soil raining down. They writhed like charmer's snakes and spat that caustic gunk. The corporal, what's his name… Shepard wished she could forget his screaming. The acrid smoke that rose from him stinging their eyes. She had burned her fingers trying to take his armor off, the acid eating through too fast. He had been so scared, just... just _squealing_ in terror. Damn it. How can she forget his name like this…

Nothing worked. Burst after burst on the heavy machine guns, barrels starting to glow and bend to uselessness. Gloves charring while changing barrels. And how they had pulled down entire APCs into the ground, buried, then eaten.

The fear and the shame. Sacrificed good people, thinking it could be a decisive move, to save the rest. Phillips, Sundaram, Bennett, Riitaoja. Brought one down, but barely slowed the rest. Later, just a few of them left, running, hiding, trying to reach the landing site. In the end, forty nine, all gone. Well, except for poor Toombs.

The pain. Skewered right through. Nausea at feeling something inside, where nothing foreign should be. Felt so… violated.

Crawling on the tarmac, trailing blood. Squeezing rounds from a pistol with a wavering hand, trying to hit the last injured creature, not seeing or hearing the first medevac touching down behind her. Crying for her long-dead mother.

And they kept telling her how brave and lucky she had been. Shepard had had to perpetuate that same platitude to all their families. Make up euphemisms just to not let them know what happened, what they had had to do, what she had done. Wives, husbands, parents and children.

Shepard shook her head to clear the burning sensation swelling in her eyes, ground her teeth, determined to pull through this one more exercise. She'd rather be dead than left in this weak state!

Suddenly, she found a position which hit a nerve. Badly. A searing cold blade of pain sunk in her shoulder. Breath got caught in her throat, a bloating lump like an involuntary constriction in her trachea. A loud hum in her ears deafened all else. Her vision blurred. The world narrowed down and out of her sight. A split second sensation of sudden indifference for everything.

* * *

Shepard came to, lying on the floor, wondering how she had ended up there. Her jaw and hip were throbbing painfully, but dully, her consciousness having missed the sharp edge of the initial blow. Some of her sweat had dried, salty buildup abrading on each movement, making her skin itch. She rubbed her eye, and winced. Her shoulder ached with a serrated edge. She felt dirty. Gritting her teeth, she carefully pushed herself up on straight arms, her pelvis on the floor. The shaking was still there, the effort making her breathe in short gasps. Nothing below her waist seemed to work, legs lying uselessly.

\- "Oh, no you won't!" she cursed and tried to inch her legs ahead. She tried to bend her knees. She tried turning her hips. Sweat started pouring again from the strain and she slumped on the floor, resting her arms, forehead against the cool surface and breathed heavily.

\- "This is absurd, I don't have time for this," she muttered to herself.

She raised her eyes ahead, her head resting on her chin, grit her teeth and set her knuckles on the floor. With a single push, she hoisted her torso up again. She pushed more, trying to nudge her lower body ahead, turn an ankle, change balance, anything that could be taken as movement ahead. After much huffing and grunting, her arms were shaking so much she took a moment to rest again and mutter curses.

She'd come back from worse. It hurt, but she'd just need to push through. All these resources poured into her recovery, then and now - she's damn near invulnerable. Nothing a little medigel, painkillers and a good night's sleep wouldn't fix. Just like always.

She tried again, pushing more with her arms, huffing and grunting loudly with the effort, trying to turn her hip and slide the knee forward. Nothing. An uncomfortable memory lashed out fresh and raw in a wave of helplessness. She lifted her head, eyes darting for the chair. Three meters. So close. Less than what she had in Akuze.

She pushed once more, but her right arm gave away under her and she fell on it, hitting the shoulder. She yelled in pain and frustration. She couldn't spend any more time lying in bed. She couldn't start this all over again. Her eyes started to feel an itching burn rising. She started massaging the muscles in her thighs with the fist of her other arm and muttering, "Wake up, dammit!"

She tried to rise up again, but the pain in her arm shot through her, and she slumped back on the floor. She rolled on her back and stared at the ceiling. Glowing neon fish swam among stylized tree shapes. The animation loop jumped and started over with a faint glitch. The holographic tree trunks reached down and separated the exercise room into small glowing islands of specialized equipment. This time of night, she was alone among the pink and magenta flushed machines of recovery.

Fast, angry footsteps started closing in on the hallway behind the doors. The voice of doctor Vela Iatrosa started lecturing well before reaching the door.

\- "Commander Shepard! What do you think you are doing? We have a schedule for these sessions, and they include periods of rest for a reason! Besides, you should know better than to venture out here alone, without someone to assist and-"

The doctor slammed the door lock open as she marched in, but the rest of the sentence came out quiet: "...keep an eye on you." The doctor's resentment turned into alarm and worry. She hurried to Shepard's side.

\- "Oh Goddess, Commander, are you alright? What happened?" Doctor Iatrosa knelt down and gently laid her hand on Shepard's swollen cheek examining the fresh bruise. She brought up her omnitool and started scanning, but paused and looked suspiciously as Shepard started laughing weakly.

\- "Help me doctor, I can't stay another day here. I can't bear lying on soft pillows and watch mind-numbing reruns of Fleet and Flotilla. They feed me salarian herbal jelly from the cafeteria and won't even let me change the channel!"

Shepard prodded her shoulder gently with her fingertips before soberly adding, "For a while there I thought I couldn't feel my legs."


End file.
